


all I ever wanted was the world

by spiraldistortion (bisexualthorin)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Breathplay, Brief Dubious Consent, Choking, Comeplay, Cuckolding, Dirty Talk, Gangbang, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Pegging, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Trans Jonah Magnus, Trans Jonathan Fanshawe, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, canon-typical Jonah bastardry, gagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24029929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualthorin/pseuds/spiraldistortion
Summary: Your vital company is humbly requested at a get-together of like-minded gentlemen on Friday, 10th of May current, at 7 o'clock P.M.Yours sincerely,J. MagnusEdinburgh, April 1816In which Jonah Magnus holds a pay-to-enter party in order to raise funds to open an institute for paranormal research.
Relationships: Barnabas Bennett/Jonah Magnus, Barnabas Bennett/Jonah Magnus/Jonathan Fanshawe, Barnabas Bennett/Jonah Magnus/Jonathan Fanshawe/Robert Smirke, Barnabas Bennett/Jonathan Fanshawe, Barnabas Bennett/Robert Smirke, Jonah Magnus/Robert Smirke, Jonathan Fanshawe/Jonah Magnus, Mordechai Lukas/Jonah Magnus, Simon Fairchild/Jonah Magnus
Comments: 24
Kudos: 144
Collections: Associated Articles Regarding One Jonah Magnus





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So. This is apparently my niche now. Can't get these old Georgian bastards out of my head.
> 
> Huge thanks to Mx_Carter for the beta! And super big thanks to the Eye Horror server for enabling my Jonah crimes! This wouldn't have been written without you. Love y'all <3
> 
> Simon is referred to as Giovanni because he wouldn't have been called Simon in the 19th century and Giovanni Michele being a play on John Michael was just too funny to pass up.  
> Both Jonah and Jonathan are trans, and the words cock, cunt, slit, folds, and hole are used to describe their genitals.
> 
> **IMPORTANT NOTE ABOUT THE BRIEF DUBIOUS CONSENT TAG**  
> The tag only applies to one small part of the fic, and a description of why it's used and to which part it applies will be in the notes at the end.
> 
> Title is from Primadonna by Marina
> 
> Also! My friend and co-conspirator chuckee cheese is doing art for this fic, so I'll add it as a chapter to this fic once it's finished. You don't want to miss it!!

“Gentlemen.”

A clinking of metal against crystal, and the room falls silent. Jonah straightens his back, clears his throat, and begins.

“Thank you, gentlemen, for gathering here tonight.” He sweeps his eyes over his audience and grins. “And, of course, thank you all for coming.”

The room breaks out into a mingled chorus of chuckles and groans. Jonah tilts his head and spreads his arms graciously.

“Allow me to say a few words—”

“It had better only be a few!”

“Giovanni, _please_ ,” Jonah says with a sharp glare at the man. He ignores the muttered _gasbag_ and presses on. “As I was _saying_ , before we begin, I’d like to express my sincere appreciation for your support. As you know, I’m making efforts to expand my archives—"

“His _archives_ ,” Giovanni jeers. “What a thing to call a collection of dusty old books. Next thing you know he’ll be calling it _The Magnus Institute_.”

Jonah shoots him a nasty smile. “Thank you, Giovanni, for your _valued_ opinion.” He sniffs and reaches up to begin picking at the knots of his cravat.

“Are you finished then?”

“No, Mordechai, I was _not_.” He sighs, wondering at the things he’s willing to do in pursuit of his ambitions. He slips the cravat from his neck, letting it fall from his fingers to the floor, and starts in on the laces of his shirt. “But I can see that the capacity for intelligent conversation is absent from the room.”

“Can you blame us?” Barnabas calls out. Jonah turns, watching as Barnabas gives him a once-over. “What with you dressed that way?”

An appreciative murmur rises from the crowd. Jonah lowers his lashes as he tugs the laces on his shirt fully open, revealing the curve of his collarbones. “Scoundrels, the lot of you,” he says without heat.

He takes up his drink and raises it to the room.

“A toast,” he says, as the rest of the men raise their own glasses. “To… _indulgence_.” He takes a sip, waits a beat. “Though perhaps not _too_ much. It would be a shame if you were to find yourself… underperforming.”

Jonah smiles into his drink, savoring the offended noises directed at him almost as much as the liquor.

“I see you’re in a mood to run your mouth,” Robert says, sidling up next to him. Jonah feels his eyes on him, tracking the movement of his throat as he swallows. “I’m sure there’s something better you could be doing with it.”

“And I’m sure you have plenty of ideas as to what that something could be” Jonah glances sidelong at him, catches his eyes sliding up to his mouth.

“Certainly. And while I’d call most of them good ideas, one in particular strikes me in this moment as being _especially_ excellent,” Robert says. He then takes the drink from Jonah’s hands and places it onto the table beside him.

“Do tell.” Jonah stares up into his face, darts his tongue out to wet his lips, sees the glint in Robert’s eyes as he watches.

“Perhaps I’ll show you.”

Robert steps in closer and brings his hands up to Jonah’s shoulders, pushing him down. Jonah keeps his eyes up, locked on his, as he sinks to his knees.

“Well,” Robert says, swiping a thumb across Jonah’s lips. “I should think you know what to do.”

Jonah leans forward, maintaining eye contact as he mouths against the bulge of Robert’s cock pressed against his trousers.

“Come now,” Robert says with a tut, grabbing him by the chin and tilting his head back. “Do it properly.”

Jonah wrinkles his nose, but moves his hands up to the placket of Robert’s trousers, unbuttoning them slowly, dragging his fingers along the line of Robert’s cock as he works. As he draws it out, he gives one long, slow stroke, delighting in the hiss Robert sucks in through his teeth. Jonah lets his mouth fall open slightly and leans forward, bringing the head to rest on his tongue. He holds still, cock heavy and hot on his tongue, as he hears someone approach.

“Barnabas Bennett,” a familiar voice says from above him. Jonah squirms his hips in barely concealed delight. How fortunate that these two should finally meet. He takes Robert’s cock fully into his mouth, laving his tongue against the underside of the head as he hollows his cheeks. “A pleasure to meet you…?”

“Robert Smirke.” A hand cards through Jonah’s curls, coming to rest at the back of his head. “A pleasure indeed. And how do you know the ah, _entertainment_?”

Jonah rolls his eyes but continues to bob his head, working his mouth down over the length of Robert’s cock.

“Oh, we’ve been acquainted for a number of years now,” Barnabas says. He runs his fingers up Jonah’s shoulder, the silken fabric sliding cool and smooth against his flushed skin. “We attended school together as lads. Thick as thieves then, weren’t we, Jonah?” His fingers brush against his throat and Jonah moans around the hot slide of Robert against his tongue.

“You don’t say?” Robert asks, light and casual—completely at odds with the fervor with which he fucks into Jonah’s mouth.

“And you? How do you know our _illustrious_ host?”

“He and I have a business arrangement of sorts,” Robert supplies. “We’ve been working rather closely as of late.” The grip on his hair tightens, and Jonah tries to keep his breathing steady through his nose as he relaxes his throat to accept Robert’s cock.

“That must be quite nice,” Barnabas says. He skates his fingers back down Jonah’s throat, hooking around the neck of his shirt and pulling it to one side. The fabric slides down his arm, revealing a slim, freckled shoulder, the slight swell of his chest, and the firelit glint of metal.

“One of my fonder memories,” Barnabas says with a sigh, reaching down to flick at the silver barbell through Jonah’s nipple. Jonah shivers and hums his pleasure around Robert’s cock.

“I never did get the story behind those, Magnus,” Robert says. He pulls Jonah off and looks down at him, raising an eyebrow. _Expectant_ , Jonah thinks. _Entitled_. He rubs the back of his hand over his lips and shoots Robert a look.

“They were… a gift,” he says, “though I don’t see why you should feel you’re privy to things done to my body.”

“ _Done_ to you!” Barnabas laughs, “as I recall, you quite happily made the choice yourself!”

Jonah opens his mouth to retort and gets out one indignant syllable, before Robert uses his grip on his hair to yank him forward. Precome and spit smear over his cheek as Robert moves him, and though Jonah glowers up at him, he takes the cock into his mouth all the same.

“It doesn’t matter who’s done what to you,” Robert murmurs down at him. He pets at Jonah’s jaw, thumb digging into his cheek to feel the push of his cock against it. “Tonight, you’re mine to use.” Jonah shudders, squeezes his thighs together, tries not to dwell on the stretch of his lips around Robert. It’s much too early in the night to let his control slip even an inch.

“Well,” Robert concedes, voice louder now, conversational. “Rather, you’re _ours_ tonight.” He uses his grip on Jonah’s hair to drag him slowly up and down his cock, fucking Jonah’s mouth at a leisurely pace. “But that does have me thinking, Barnabas. Have you any other stories of our mutual acquaintance from his schoolboy days?”

“Oh, _have_ I,” Barnabas says, conspiratorially. His fingers slip around the hard nub of Jonah’s nipple, twiddling the metal bar between them. “Would it surprise you to know that this isn’t the first time that our Jonah here has hosted several fellows for such a get-together?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me, no,” Robert answers, still fucking Jonah’s mouth in slow, languid strokes. Jonah tries to bob his head faster, but the fist in his hair tightens in warning. “But do tell.”

“I recall one such night vividly,” Barnabas says wistfully. His fingers on Jonah’s chest begin to pinch and pull, coaxing a muffled moan from Jonah. “I was invited to join Jonah in his rooms under the auspices of an evening of study and scholarly pursuit. You must understand—” Barnabas says with a particularly sharp twist of his fingers. “Our Jonah was ever the conscientious student.”

“I can very well imagine.”

Jonah huffs and rolls his eyes at the banter. He brings one hand up to blindly grope at the front of Barnabas’ trousers, palming him through the fabric.

“Enough of that!” Barnabas laughs, swatting away his hand. “There will be plenty of time for that later. And besides,” he says, stroking at Jonah’s jaw affectionately. “You already have the task at hand, as it were.”

Robert laughs, as if this were any conversation, as if he weren’t ramming his cock down Jonah’s throat in measured, deliberate thrusts. Jonah balls his fists in his lap, feeling petulant and pleased in equal measure.

“As I was saying,” Barnabas starts, running his fingers down from Jonah’s jaw, ghosting them over his neck. “I show up, books in hand—and what a poor, unsuspecting lad I was, thinking I was in for a night of page turning and pen scratching. For when I was let into the rooms, what a sight greeted me! Our dearest Jonah, bent over his books for certain, but _not_ in the studious way I imagined!”

Jonah hears a chuckle to his left, a low, rumbling baritone—another onlooker then. Jonah—ever studious, as Barnabas had said—keeps his eyes lowered, focused on his work. He runs his tongue against the cock in his mouth, eagerly drinking in Robert’s answering moan.

“Hello, Mordechai,” Barnabas says cheerfully, “I was just telling Robert here one of my fondest memories of our host.”

“I gathered as much,” Mordechai responds. Jonah hears the clink of ice against glass as Mordechai swirls his drink, and the smell of whisky wafts down, smoky and sweet. Jonah breathes in deep through his nose, savoring the moment.

“Now, where was I…”

“I believe you were about to tell us how Jonah looked, presumably stuffed full of cock.”

“Right you are, Robert!” Barnabas shifts his thumb, pressing it into the hollow of his throat, and Jonah knows now how this little story will end. His heart leaps under Barnabas’ fingers and he stills his tongue, mouth pliant and soft around Robert’s cock, eager to keep this from ending before the real fun begins.

“I’m sure you all can imagine how he looked,” Barnabas says, tone conspiratorial. “Face red, lips swollen—clearly he had been showing the fellow who let me in a marvelous time.”

“He can be quite talented with his mouth, where words _aren’t_ concerned,” Robert says, and Jonah can hear it now, the breathy quality to his voice—a man whose pleasure looms bright on the horizon. Mordechai grunts his agreement.

“And behind him, the largest lad in our year—an absolute bear of a man, could possibly have even put you to shame, Mordechai—” Barnabas says. Jonah can practically feel the unimpressed look Mordechai gives in response. He digs his fingers deeper into his thighs to keep himself from squirming. “—absolutely _giving_ _it_ to Jonah.”

Jonah hears the huff of laughter above him before Barnabas bends down slightly, breath ghosting hot over his ear. “And how did it feel, Jonah, to have your sweet little cunt stuffed so full?”

Jonah moans, the sound choked off around Robert’s cock. He remembers the feeling vividly. He couldn’t walk properly the next day, and he’d sworn he could feel the weight of every eye on him as he’d wobbled his way through the halls.

“But that isn’t all, gentlemen,” Barnabas says, louder now, still bent close over Jonah. “I must confess, there was some study after all.”

Mordechai groans. “Get on with it then.”

Barnabas ignores him and holds the pause, allowing the tension to build. Jonah has to admit: Barnabas is truly a gifted storyteller. Even Robert stills, cock throbbing against Jonah’s tongue, as he waits for the climax.

“While most of it was anatomical in nature—and perhaps I should give my thanks, for I truly did very well on the exams that followed—”

“For God’s sake, man!”

“All right!” Barnabas laughs. His tone is bright, but his fingers splay over Jonah’s throat in dark promise. Jonah holds himself still and waits.

“I shan’t tell you all that I learned—a story for another day, perhaps. But I will share with you this most delectable tidbit.”

Jonah can hear the smile in his voice, its sharpness as keenly felt as if those teeth were against his ear. He feels Barnabas sink to his knees beside him, pressing his chest up against the length of Jonah’s back, hot as a brand through the thin silk of his shirt.

“Shall I show you his _favorite_ thing?”

Without waiting for an answer, he tightens his grip around Jonah’s throat. The familiar ache of fingertips digging into the side of his neck, the heady pressure of Barnabas’s palm pushing down against his windpipe, choking off his air, sending the blood pounding past his ears. Jonah tries to gasp, a pathetic, aborted sound, and his vision darkens quickly, room swimming before his eyes.

“Go on then, Robert,” Barnabas says, very little of his previous humor now in his voice, “I’m sure you’ll find him quite tight now.”

Robert wastes no time in fucking back into Jonah’s throat, groaning as he presses hard against his face. Barnabas’ free hand snakes around Jonah’s front, pulling him practically into his lap. Barnabas grinds the length of his cock against Jonah’s ass, and Jonah whimpers as Barnabas’ fingers play against his already sore nipple. His eyes begin to water, and when he closes them shut against the darkness blooming across his eyes, he feels tears streak across his heated cheeks.

Robert thrusts into Jonah’s throat, hand fisting painfully in Jonah’s curls to hold him there, nose buried in his groin, as he finishes. Sputtering, Jonah tries to cough, but he lacks the air needed to convince his lungs to cooperate. His throat seizes in a weak approximation of swallowing as Robert groans, long and low, cock pulsing against his tongue one last time before it leaves his mouth with a wet pop.

“There,” Barnabas murmurs in his ear, relaxing his grip on his throat. “You’ve done so very well.” Jonah gasps in mouthfuls of sweet air, the expansion of his lungs in his chest a beautiful, burning ache. The praise warms him nearly as much, and he slumps back against Barnabas, muscles relaxed and body pliant.

Robert steps back and tucks himself primly away. Buttoned up and straightened out once more, he’s none the worse for wear. But Jonah—hair mussed, lips slick with spit and come, cheeks wet with tears—well, he can only imagine the sight he makes.

Mordechai moves closer, looming over Jonah, still on his knees. He stares down at him, a considering look on his face, and Jonah bristles at the attempt to make him feel small.

“Hold this,” he tells Jonah, pressing the half-finished glass of whisky into his hands. “And mind it doesn’t tip. Spill even a drop and there will be consequences.”

Jonah looks down at the drink, at the swirl of ice through the rich, dark amber of the liquor, the beads of condensation beginning to form on the glass. He feels something building inside him, some nameless, spiteful feeling, and he finds himself entirely disinclined to heed the advice.

“Up now,” Mordechai says. And it’s the fact that there’s no tone to his voice, not even the bark of a command, that snaps the thinned string of Jonah’s patience.

He tilts his chin up and looks Mordechai in the eye as he rolls his wrist and lets the glass tip, whisky spilling out onto the rug and splashing up onto Mordechai’s boots. Jonah hears Giovanni’s hooting laugh in the background but continues to hold Mordechai’s gaze, eyes blazing and lip curling.

Mordechai blinks down at him, unimpressed. “That whisky was significantly more expensive than you are, Magnus.”

“Perhaps,” Jonah says, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Mordechai tracks the movement, gaze hot. “But I guarantee I taste better.”

“Is that so?” Mordechai asks.

He looks down at Jonah for a long moment, expression unreadable, before something seems to click into place behind his eyes. Without a word, he reaches down, grabbing the front of Jonah’s shirt to pull him to his feet. Jonah jerks forward, glass falling from his hand to roll across the floor. He stumbles up onto numbed feet, legs clumsy and shaky, and his hands scrabble against Mordechai’s forearms for purchase.

“Bennett,” Mordechai says, not looking away from Jonah’s face, “hold him up.” Jonah watches with wide eyes as Mordechai sinks to his knees in front of him. Barnabas comes to stand behind him again and hooks his arms around Jonah’s waist, propping him up against his chest.

“Not much of a punishment, is it?” Barnabas asks. He slides one hand up under Jonah’s shirt to rest on his belly, fingers stroking lightly at the soft skin there.

Jonah sucks in a breath through his teeth as Mordechai yanks his trousers down and off of his legs, exposing his slick folds to the cool air of the room. Barnabas pulls him more firmly against his chest as Mordechai grabs one of Jonah’s thighs, draping it over one broad shoulder to open Jonah up to his scrutiny.

“I can’t say I blame him,” Barnabas says, pausing to press a heated kiss just below his ear. He takes one of Jonah’s arms and brings it up and back to curl loosely around his shoulders. “If I could, I would live between your thighs.”

The first rasp of Mordechai’s beard against the tender skin of his thighs sends him gasping, hips bucking forward to chase the sensation. Mordechai slides his hand up to grasp the curve of his ass, pulling Jonah flush against his mouth.

“God, the taste of you,” Barnabas moans against his neck. Mordechai runs the flat of his tongue against his lips, curling his tongue to flick lightly against the tip of Jonah’s cock, and Jonah _shakes_. “The number of times I’ve brought myself to completion from the mere memory of it.”

Jonah digs his heel into Mordechai’s back, trying to draw him closer, but he may as well have been trying to move a mountain. Mordechai continues to lave his tongue against him, only occasionally stiffening it to brush against Jonah’s throbbing cock.

“My sweet Jonah,” Barnabas sighs, licks a hot stripe from collarbone to jaw. “Were it up to me, I’d keep you spread open and soaking for me always.”

Mordechai dips his tongue into Jonah’s cunt, and Jonah cries out, head falling back against Barnabas’ shoulder. Barnabas runs his other hand down Jonah’s arm, stroking over his wrist and interlocking their fingers. He brings Jonah’s hand to his mouth, lips brushing over the back of his hand as he speaks.

“I’d have you on your back, arms and legs lashed to the bed posts, trembling against my mouth as I brought you over the edge again and again.”

Jonah pants, caught between the sweet words in his ear and the cruel insistence of the tongue at his slit. Mordechai brings his other hand up, sliding between Jonah’s legs and over his slick lips, parting them with two thick fingers. He licks one broad stripe over Jonah’s cunt, and the wet pressure of it over Jonah’s cock sends him writhing in Barnabas’ arms.

“How many times do you think you could take, Jonah?” Barnabas asks. Mordechai runs his tongue downward, circling his entrance, spreading the slick gathered there. “How many times could I bring you off before you were reduced to a sobbing wreck under my mouth?”

Jonah tosses his head, every word he gathers up in response dying a small death on his tongue before they get the chance to leave his lips. Mordechai dips his tongue inside him, curling wickedly, and Jonah wonders, wildly, how a tongue alone could make him feel so _full_. There’s a rustling beside him, but he can’t convince his eyes to open long enough to see who has decided to join them.

“Ah, hello Dr. Fanshawe,” Barnabas says pleasantly, tilting his head away from Jonah to greet the man. “Won’t you join us?”

“Please, Jonathan is fine.”

“Jonathan, then,” Barnabas agrees. “Our Jonah is quite the greedy little thing, so I’m sure he’ll appreciate your attentions ever so much.”

Mordechai runs his tongue back up his slit, circling once around his cock before he wraps his lips around it and sucks. Jonah moans, high and thready, and writhes in Barnabas’ arms. Barnabas shushes him gently, and uses the knuckles of the hand still tightly gripping Jonah’s to nudge Jonah’s chin, tilting his head upward. Jonah’s eyes flutter open and he sees Jonathan staring down at him, wide-eyed and red-faced.

“What say you give him a little kiss, Jonathan?” Barnabas says. Jonah groans, mouth falling open as he keeps his half-lidded eyes on Jonathan. “The poor, tortured creature. Do you hear the sounds he makes? Don’t you think he could use a spot of comfort?”

Jonathan shifts on his feet, looking away from Jonah’s face. “I—” he begins, stopping to clear his throat. He looks back , eyes shy if not for the hunger in them. “Yes, I mean, if you are amenable to that, Jonah”

Sweet Jonathan. Jonah recalls the first time they slept together; the hesitant fluttering of his fingers on Jonah’s hips, the reverent look in his eyes as Jonah undressed, the choked gasps as Jonah fucked him into the bed. Jonah arches forward, pressing himself closer to Mordechai’s mouth, reaching out for Jonathan’s.

Jonathan bends down to kiss him, a chaste press for only a moment before he groans into Jonah’s mouth and pushes closer, coaxing his lips apart with his tongue. Barnabas hums behind him, the vibration of it radiating through Jonah’s chest as Barnabas strokes one finger over Jonah’s jaw.

“Have you any idea how you look right now?” Barnabas asks him, nuzzling his nose into his hair. “How lovely, how _divine_?” Jonah shakes, wonders which tongue is sweeter: the one working hot over his cunt, the one delving greedily into his mouth, or the one flaying him raw with its pretty words. “Would you like me to tell you?”

Jonah moans his assent and arches upward into the hand that slides into his shirt and cups his chest.

“Like a Caravaggio,” Barnabas breathes into his hair, “like a painting come alive in my arms. Would that the great artists could have had you as their muse.” Barnabas pauses, sliding his knuckles up to brush over the slope of his cheekbone. “What new heights would art have reached, if only they had known the carmine curls of your hair, the ivory expanse of your skin, the constellation of freckles across your shoulders?”

Jonathan slides his lips over Jonah’s jaw, mouthing his way down the column of his neck to his bared shoulder. Mordechai slips two thick fingers into Jonah’s cunt, and though he’s more than wet enough to ease their passage, the tight stretch of it burns and sends him reeling. Mordechai fucks him roughly, tongue merciless over his cock, and Barnabas’s mouth is hot against his ear, his fingers raking over his stomach, and Jonathan sinks his teeth into the meat of his shoulder, sucking in a deep purple bruise, and Jonah shakes and arches his back and he’s so close and he’s right there and he’s—

Mordechai yanks his fingers out of Jonah with a loud, slick noise, and moves away completely. The pleasure snaps back in on itself, stolen away from Jonah just before the precipice, and it feels like missing a step, like the shaky drop of the stomach as the body lurches forward to fall. Jonah jolts from the loss of contact, knocking Jonathan aside and almost tumbling from Barnabas’ arms. His eyes fly open and he stares up at Mordechai, incredulous.

Mordechai looks back at him blandly and brings a hand up to wipe his shining mouth, a strand of Jonah’s slick clinging between his fingers and beard. “I did say there would be consequences,” he says simply. He leans down to wipe his hand across Jonah’s belly and shirt, and then pats Jonah once on the cheek. “Perhaps when you’re feeling better behaved you can come find me.”

Jonah stares after the man’s retreating form for a moment before throwing himself backwards into Barnabas with a huff. Barnabas laughs and gathers him up in his arms.

“Poor, dear Jonah,” he says. “Feeling neglected, are we?”

Jonah bristles at his tone, much less tolerant of Barnabas’ glib attitude in the wake of his ruined orgasm. The only thing keeping Jonah from throwing his arms off and stalking away is the spread of Barnabas’ fingers low on his belly, fingertips just barely brushing through the curls above his cock.

“You know, I think I feel rather worse for Jonathan than I do for you,” Barnabas says thoughtfully. Jonah knows him too well to miss the wickedness in his voice. “At least you had a mouth on your cock, Jonah, while Jonathan here had not even a hand.”

Jonah feels Barnabas nod his head, and he watches as Jonathan settles down into the plush loveseat in front of him. His cock glows burnished bronze in the light of the fire, the leather straps holding it in place accentuating the slim lines of his hips. Jonathan looks Jonah over, eyes hot, as he strokes a hand over his cock, the slick shine of oil spreading in its wake. Jonah’s mouth goes dry and he squirms in Barnabas’ arms, desperate to climb into Jonathan’s lap.

Barnabas leans down, murmuring into Jonah’s ear, “I think we can do better than hands and mouths, don’t you?” Barnabas lets him go then, and Jonah tumbles bonelessly to the floor.

“Go to him,” Barnabas says. But before Jonah can push himself back to his feet, Barnabas stops him with a broad, heavy hand against the nape of his neck. “On your knees, like a good boy.”

Jonah’s cunt throbs at the praise, and his face heats. He complies, though on his own terms. As he crawls forward, he lets his hips sway, arches his back just enough so that the hem of his shirt falls and pools in the small of his back. He feels Barnabas’ eyes on him, on the curve of his ass, on the glistening pink of his folds, on the bruises Mordechai left on his thighs.

Barnabas laughs and steps alongside him. “Putting on a little show then?” he asks, bringing his hand down to palm a cheek. “Need everyone to see how sluttish you are?”

Jonah raises onto his knees and pulls himself up onto Jonathan’s lap, grinding himself down onto Jonathan’s thigh. Barnabas presses himself against Jonah’s back, ever present over his shoulder, and reaches down to cup Jonah, fingers spreading his lips.

“I think we’re all quite ready now to see the main event,” he says, and then guides Jonathan’s cock inside him. Jonah sinks himself down slowly, savoring the stretch, and tosses his head back against Barnabas’ chest, mouth open and panting.

“There we are,” Barnabas murmurs quietly, for Jonah’s ears only, as Jonathan bottoms out inside him. Barnabas slides his hand back, running lightly over where he and Jonathan are joined, and settles it lightly on Jonah’s hip

“Jonathan,” Barnabas says, voice bright, “mind if I take the reins here a bit?”

Jonah huffs and rolls his eyes at Barnabas’ predictability, at his need to stick his fingers in everywhere they do and, infuriatingly, _don’t_ belong. He doesn’t get long to dwell, however, before Jonathan—sweet, breathless Jonathan—nods his assent and Barnabas—horrible, _wicked_ Barnabas—grips Jonah’s hips and grinds him down into Jonathan’s lap.

Jonah’s gasp cuts through the relative quiet of the room, and he feels the eyes on him as Barnabas begins to bounce him in Jonathan’s lap, knows he has the avid attention of every man in the room. Jonathan looks up at Jonah with something like awe, the same reverential look in his eyes that he had the first time they fucked, and the second, and the third, and every time thereafter. _Jonah_ brings this reverence to his gaze, _Jonah_ puts this tremble in his fingers as they brush against his body, _Jonah_ reduces this man of logic and science to a worshipful wreck, to a pious man bowed over the altar of his body. Jonah is a god before him, and Jonah wants nothing more than to eat him alive.

Jonah watches as Jonathan runs shaky hands up his sides and over his ribs to cup his chest. He squeezes, tentatively, before he sees something in Jonah’s face that gives him the confidence to continue, grasping harder, squeezing his chest together. Jonathan sits up and leans forward to take one nipple in his mouth, his teeth clinking against the metal of the barbell, and Jonah shudders.

“Yes, Jonathan, that’s right,” Barnabas supplies, voice low, “that’s exactly how he likes it.”

“Shut up,” Jonah groans, the last syllable drawn out long and shaking from his mouth. Barnabas merely chuckles and keeps up the relentless pace.

“I don’t believe you’d actually like me to,” Barnabas tells him. “In fact, I’m certain that you’d like for me to continue. After all,” he says, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Jonah’s arm, “Jonathan did request my assistance.”

“He didn’t ask you for anything,” Jonah bites out, trying to gyrate his hips free of Barnabas’ hands, succeeding only in finding the perfect angle at which to fuck himself on Jonathan’s cock.

“Oh no, I’m quite sure he did,” Barnabas says, voice arrogant in the way that drives Jonah to his wits’ end. “How else could he learn all of your delicious little secrets?”

Jonah resolutely ignores him. He instead uses his grip around Barnabas’ neck as leverage to roll his hips against Jonathan’s, reveling in the man’s strangled groan against his chest.

“Luckily for him—luckily for _you_ —I’m a generous man, and I do so like to share.”

“ _Barnabas_ —"

“You see, Jonathan,” Barnabas says, speaking over Jonah. He leans down to grasp the other man’s wrist, sliding his hand down the small of Jonah’s back. Gasping, Jonah’s hips stutter to a halt as Barnabas drags their joined hands over the curve of Jonah’s ass to press lightly against his hole. “Our Jonah quite likes a few fingers here, too.”

Jonah’s hips buck wildly at the press of fingers against him, fearful exhilaration skittering inside his chest.

“Barnabas!” he hisses, trying desperately to angle away from the prodding fingers. “Oil!”

“Of course, of course!” Barnabas reassures him. “I was just getting to that.” Jonah hears the sound of a vial being unstoppered moments before he feels the cool stream of oil flowing down the cleft of his ass.

“Barnabas, _really_?” Jonah chides. “Was all of that necessary?”

“Fussy!” Barnabas laughs, leaning forward to nip at Jonah’s ear. “Well, Jonathan? How about it?”

Jonathan’s brow is pinched in annoyance, and Jonah feels a wave of affection for the man, united in their irritation at Barnabas.

“Yes, I do believe I know what I’m doing here, so if you don’t mind…?” Jonah could kiss him. In fact, he does, leaning out of Barnabas’ arms to press his mouth hot and wet against Jonathan’s

“By all means, don’t let me stop you,” Barnabas says, withdrawing his fingers. “Though, perhaps you’ll still allow me to watch?”

Jonathan pulls back from Jonah’s mouth with a hitched exhale. He agrees with an absent nod of his head, eyes only for Jonah as he draws him closer in his arms. He slips two fingers inside Jonah with ease, other hand scrabbling for purchase against his back as Jonah begins to move, rolling his hips to grind against Jonathan inside him.

“Come now, don’t be cruel” Barnabas says, pushing against the middle of Jonah’s back, tilting his hips up. “Let us see.”

The position has the advantage of bringing his chest within reach of Jonathan’s mouth, so Jonah bites his tongue against his complaint. Jonathan wastes no time in latching on just to the left of one nipple, sucking the skin into his mouth and coaxing blood to the surface with tongue and teeth.

Jonah sinks one hand into Jonathan’s hair, drawing him closer, and reaches his other behind him to swat at Barnabas’ arm, shooing him away. He raises and lowers his hips slowly, fucking himself languidly on Jonathan’s cock and fingers. Jonathan groans against him, breath hot against the wet mark he left on Jonah’s chest. He plants his feet on the floor to thrust up into him, and it jolts through Jonah’s core. Jonah arches his spine, letting his head fall back as he meets Jonathan’s thrusts.

“So beautiful like this,” Barnabas murmurs, once again at Jonah’s back. He doesn’t touch him, but Jonah can feel the heat radiating from his body. “An absolute vision.”

Jonah moans helplessly as Jonathan brings his other hand down between his legs, fingers rubbing tight, slick circles around his cock. Jonathan picks up his pace, sliding his mouth over Jonah’s collar, setting his teeth against the fragile skin stretched over the jut of bone.

“Will you finish, Jonah?” Barnabas asks, breath hot at Jonah’s ear. “Will you let me watch you come apart?”

The words cut through him, pulling his arousal taut until it snaps, breaking over him like a wave. He clenches down hard, gushing against the unyielding metal of Jonathan’s cock. Shuddering against his neck, Jonathan tightens his arm around Jonah and grinds up into him, fucking him through his orgasm until he’s shuddering and mewling from overstimulation.

When Jonah stops shaking, Jonathan gingerly slides out of him and lets him slump forward to rest his head against his shoulder. Jonah has only moments to relax his muscles and breathe before arms wrap around his waist and pull. He yelps as Barnabas, now sat next to Jonathan on the loveseat, manhandles him into his lap, wrapping an arm around one thigh to hold him open. Slick and oil trickle out of him, making a mess of Barnabas’ trousers.

“Could you not wait a blessed moment?” Jonah asks, tetchy and ready to argue, before the slide of two fingers into his cunt pushes him to forgiveness. Barnabas thrusts into him slowly, pressing his thumb gently against his cock.

“You’ll have to accept my sincerest apologies, Jonah,” Barnabas says, hooking his chin over Jonah’s shoulder to watch as his fingers push into him. “I find I rather can’t help myself around you.”

Jonah can’t help but feel fond, fucked out and fuzzy in the wake of his orgasm, and he settles back into Barnabas’s arms with a contented sigh. He watches as Jonathan reaches for a glass of water, eyes on his long, elegant fingers as they fish out a cube of ice. Jonathan leans forward and cradles Jonah’s face in one hand, the other pressing the ice to Jonah’s mouth. The cold touch against his lips shocks a gasp out of him, and Jonathan pushes the chip past his open lips and across his tongue.

“There,” Jonathan murmurs, swiping his thumb over Jonah’s bottom lip. As he brings another chip to Jonah’s lips, Barnabas curls his fingers inside Jonah, and he bucks, knocking the ice from Jonathan’s hand to slide down the heated skin of his belly. He hisses as a trickle of cool water runs over the lips of his cunt.

“I think he could use a bit more, Jonathan,” Barnabas says, moving his thumb from Jonah’s cock to hold him open. Jonathan presses another cube to Jonah’s cock, and the overwhelming cold of it has Jonah shivering and clamping down around Barnabas’ fingers. Barnabas pushes in a third finger just as Jonah clenches down tightest, and the burn of the stretch punches a breathy whimper out of him. Jonathan rubs icy circles over Jonah’s cock, and Jonah writhes in Barnabas’ arms.

Jonah has just been worked back up into a delicious frenzy, stretched tight around Barnabas’ fingers and shivering against Jonathan’s cool touch, when he’s rudely interrupted by the clearing of a throat. He opens his eyes and looks up to see Giovanni standing in front of the loveseat, looking down at him expectantly.

“Jonah,” he says, light reproach in his voice. “I’ve been quite patient thus far, but I must now insist on getting my money’s worth.”

Jonah bristles at the tone, glares up at the man as best he can with eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

“And while it may be amusing to see what you do with your…seed money,” he says, pointedly looking down at Barnabas’ fingers fucking into him, “you can’t expect a man to wait forever, no matter how sweet the prize.”

“No need to be _vulgar_ , Giovanni,” Jonah hisses, sitting up in Barnabas’ arms. Barnabas shushes him and pulls him back down, pumping his fingers in and out of Jonah lazily.

“Giovanni,” Barnabas chides. “I just got him calm. No need to get him worked up again so soon.”

“Don’t speak about me that way! I am not some pet—"

“Oh, I beg to differ on both points,” Giovanni says, stepping in closer. “Now, give him here, Barny.” He reaches forward, hands grasping impatiently at Jonah, as if he were a child demanding his turn with a toy. Jonah nearly objects to the indignity of it all, but for the way that Barnabas stills underneath him, the fingers inside him coming to a stop and his arm squeezing minutely tighter around Jonah’s waist. He glances upward to see Barnabas looking over at Giovanni, and notes the wooden smile fixed to his face with glee.

“What’s the matter, _Barny_? Don’t much feel like sharing anymore?” Jonah sneers. “And here I thought you were a most magnanimous man.” Barnabas looks down at him, an odd emotion playing behind his eyes before something like his usual good cheer slots back into place.

“Given the conditions under which we’re all here, I’d say we’re all of us generous men tonight,” Barnabas says, “and who am I to deny a man his pleasure?”

Barnabas slips his fingers out of Jonah and moves his hands to his hips, pushing him gently off his lap to stand on wobbly legs. Giovanni reaches out and grasps one of Jonah’s wrists, tugging him forward, and Jonah stumbles into him with a baleful look upward.

“Now, now, sweetheart, don’t give me that look” Giovanni says, sliding a knuckle under Jonah’s chin, tilting his face up. “We’re going to have great fun.”

He maneuvers Jonah over to the couch, directing him to kneel in the spot where Jonathan had previously been sat. Barnabas watches from the other side of the loveseat, eyes half lidded and one finger pressed thoughtfully to his lips. Giovanni continues to prod Jonah into position, crowding him further onto the cushion, pressing his palms in to lower Jonah’s shoulders until he needs to grip the back of the loveseat to stay upright. Humming, he crooks his thumbs up against Jonah’s hips to tilt them forwards, deepening the curve of his back and putting him on display.

Jonah lets him fuss, instead watching Barnabas from the corner of his eye. Barnabas sits angled towards them, one leg crossed at the knee, foot bouncing restlessly. His eyes are narrowed, scrutinizing Giovanni’s every move, and his lips are turned slightly in a very uncharacteristic frown. He hates this, Jonah realizes with a jolt. He’s _jealous_. Something hot and spiteful curls low in his belly. How utterly _delicious_. The man accused Jonah of putting on a show earlier. And now—well, Jonah feels quite keen on earning the accusation now.

Giovanni runs his hands over his ass, fingers digging into the swell of it, and Jonah arches into the touch, throwing his head back and letting a loud moan fall from his lips. Barnabas twitches at the sound and folds his hands into his lap, knuckles white.

“Saucy old thing!” Giovanni laughs. He scratches his nails down the backs of Jonah’s thighs, drawing a genuine shiver from him. He trails one hand back up and runs a deft finger over his slit, slipping through the slick and oil that drips from him.

“So wet for me,” Giovanni says, letting his finger slip between his lips to probe at his entrance. Jonah pushes his hips back against him and Giovanni chuckles. “And so _eager_.”

He slides his finger out of Jonah’s cunt, spreading the slick up to his hole. He presses down lightly, causing the muscle to flutter under his touch.

“As tempting as your cute little cunt is, I see the good doctor has already gotten there first,” Giovanni says.

“Picky now, are we Giovanni?” Jonathan asks. He hands Barnabas a drink and perches next to him on the arm of the loveseat.

“No disrespect meant, Doc—I do appreciate your work,” Giovanni says cheerfully. “But what can I say? I do so love a new frontier.”

Jonah looks over his shoulder and scowls up at Giovanni. “Are you going to insist on this incessant chatter or are you going to fuck me?”

Giovanni clucks his tongue and shoots him a condescending smile. “Someone’s feeling petulant,” he says in a singsong voice, “but unlike Big Man over there, I won’t let a little bratty behavior spoil my fun. Though I can certainly make it… less pleasant for you, shall we say.”

Jonah rolls his eyes. “More talk. And here I thought no one loved the sound of their own voice more than Barnabas.”

“That’s certainly rich coming from you—!”

“Gentlemen, please!” Giovanni says through a laugh. “As delightful as it would be to watch this lover’s quarrel play out—”

Jonah’s sputter of indignation and Barnabas’ shout of offense momentarily drown out Giovanni’s voice.

“—I must insist that you quiet down and let me work,” he says. He pauses for a moment and then gives Jonah’s ass a fond pat. “Unless you have any pretty little noises for me, sweetheart, those would be just lovely.”

Jonah huffs out a breath, squeezing his eyes closed in annoyance. While the man has a deep wallet and can be decidedly generous for the right cause, he is an absolute nuisance. Jonah wonders if inviting him was more trouble than it was worth.

“Might want to relax for this next bit,” Giovanni says, and Jonah hears the familiar sounds of rustling clothes and the wet slide of oil slicking over flesh. “I see you’ve been prepared well enough—thank you, Doc—”

Jonah catches Jonathan tilt his glass in acknowledgement and thinks that maybe none of this was worth the hassle.

“—but it wouldn’t do to hurt you…yet,” he says and spreads Jonah’s cheeks.

Jonah sighs loudly through his mouth. “Please, don’t flatter yourself, Giovani, you aren’t that b—" Jonah chokes as Giovanni pushes inside in one smooth, hard thrust.

“Sorry, what was that?” Giovanni asks. “Didn’t catch that.”

Jonah tries to catch his breath as Giovanni slides slowly back, pulling out fully until the head of his cock rests against his hole.

Barnabas laughs and scoots closer, bringing a hand up to pat at Jonah’s cheek.

“Aw, did someone go and get a little too cocksure?” Barnabas asks, voice patronizing.

Jonah gets no chance to quip back before Giovanni drives back into him, knocking the air out of his lungs. He grips the back of the loveseat, white-knuckled, as Giovanni pulls back out, feeling for all the world like he’s dragging out a bit of Jonah’s soul with him. Jonah hangs his head between his arms and pants.

Barnabas swipes his thumb over Jonah’s lip, hooking it in to press against his tongue and draw his mouth open. “I have something that can soothe the ache.”

He draws his hand back, swirling two fingers into his drink before pressing them between Jonah’s lips. Jonah laps at them, savoring the dark, woody taste. Giovanni rolls his hips, jerking Jonah forward and pushing Barnabas’ fingers further back against his tongue.

“There we go,” Barnabas murmurs. “You take it so beautifully.”

Barnabas removes his fingers and Jonah whines at the loss, trying to chase them. Barnabas laughs and dips his fingers back into his glass.

“Don’t worry,” Barnabas tells him, and brings his fingers back to his mouth. Jonah moans around them, canting his hips as Giovanni thrusts back into him. Barnabas inches closer, pushes deeper into Jonah’s mouth as he brushes a kiss against Jonah’s exposed shoulder.

Giovanni tightens his grip, pulling Jonah flush against his hips to grind against him. Jonah shudders, feeling the press of Giovanni’s cock so deep inside him that he struggles to draw breath.

“Well, Barny?” Giovanni asks. “Are you getting in here, then? Or are you just going to torture the poor man?” Jonah can feel the man shrug behind him. “Your choice.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Barnabas says, pressing a hand to his chest as if he were touched by the thought. He holds his drink out towards Jonathan. “Would you mind terribly, Jonathan? Duty calls.” Jonathan shakes his head with a chuckle and takes the drink.

Barnabas wraps a hand around Jonah’s thigh and lays on his side, maneuvering his head between his legs. Jonah feels the puff of Barnabas’ breath against his cunt and involuntarily clenches down, drawing a groan from Giovanni. Barnabas wastes no time, sliding the hand not gripping Jonah’s thigh forward to part his folds and runs his tongue over him in one broad, wet stroke. The ball of the barbell in Barnabas’ tongue catches against his cock, and Jonah gasps, hand shooting out to fist tightly in Barnabas’ shirt.

“D-disgusting man,” Jonah bites out, torn between pushing back against Giovanni’s cock and down onto Barnabas’ tongue. “Trying to- ah- get a taste of Jonathan’s cock for yourself?”

Barnabas groans, low and deep in his chest and Jonah feels the rumble of it against his knuckles. Barnabas pulls back from Jonah, taking in a shaky breath.

“Anyone going to shut him up?” he asks the room at large. Jonah breathes out a quivering laugh.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love this,” Jonah says. He bows his head to look down at Barnabas, meeting his eye. “You _love_ watching me fuck other men, you filthy voyeur.”

Giovanni laughs long and loud, hips stilling against Jonah’s. “Oh, if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black, I’m not sure I know what is!”

“Here now,” Robert says, and he grabs Jonah by the chin, tilting his head up toward him. He holds Jonah there, head tilted at an uncomfortable angle, as he takes a sip of his drink. Jonah waits there, pinned and panting, as Barnabas runs his tongue along his slit and Giovanni resumes his leisurely pace.

Robert leans down and slots his mouth against Jonah’s, cool liquid spilling over his lips and down his throat. He holds Jonah in place as he tilts his head, chasing the taste across Jonah’s tongue, swallowing the moans right from Jonah’s mouth. When he pulls back, Jonah tries to follow him but he’s stopped by the hand firm against his jaw.

“Greedy,” Robert says, as Jonah bucks back onto Giovanni’s cock. “Voracious,” he adds, as Jonah grinds down against Barnabas’ mouth. “Insatiable,” he murmurs, as he sweeps Jonah up once again in a searing kiss.

Jonah wails into his mouth, cranes his neck as far as he can, flexes his fingers against Barnabas’ chest, stretched for one perfect moment between agonizing friction and ecstatic pleasure before he falls. Robert draws back with a small nip to his lower lip, and Jonah gasps through the aftershocks as Barnabas slows down, occasionally flicking his tongue against Jonah’s twitching cock.

“There’s a lad,” Giovanni says, patting his flank. “Just lovely.”

Jonah blinks his eyes open, vision pleasantly hazy. Robert holds the glass up to his lips, tilting the liquid into his mouth. A drop spills from the corner of his lips, and he flicks his tongue out to catch the rest, relishing the heated look on Robert’s face as he follows its movement.

Suddenly, Jonah is jerked from the warm, fuzzy afterglow of his orgasm by the insistent press of Barnabas’ tongue against his oversensitive cock. “W-wait,” he stammers, yanking on Barnabas’ shirt in warning. In response, Barnabas wraps his lips around Jonah’s cock and starts to suck, rubbing the flat of his tongue against it in short, soft circles. Jonah cries out, pitching forward as his arm gives out, falling face-first against Robert’s chest.

“Come now, surely you didn’t think we were done with you yet,” Giovanni says, derision in his voice. He snaps his hips harshly against Jonah’s and Jonah keens. “Not when you make such sweet noises.”

“I-I can’t, I—” Jonah stammers, eyes starting to prickle with tears at the overstimulation. He raises himself on one wobbling arm to look over at Jonathan. The man has his hand shoved down the front of his trousers, jerking himself off as he tracks the tears that spill over Jonah’s cheeks with sharp, unwavering eyes. Jonah squirms, and the movement only impales him further onto Giovanni and presses his poor, aching cock closer against Barnabas’ tongue. He looks over to Mordechai, tears falling now in earnest, and the man raises his glass in response, looking bored.

“ _Please_ ,” Jonah says, muscles seizing up from the tension, twisting him tighter, tighter, painfully tighter.

Giovanni thrusts into him, brutal and unforgiving, and laughs breathlessly.

“Oh, I think you’ve one more in you yet,” he says, leaning over Jonah’s back.

Barnabas digs his fingers into Jonah’s thigh and pulls himself closer, chin rubbing against Jonah’s cock as he wriggles his tongue into his cunt. Jonah can feel his groans, feel the rumble of them spread vibrating up through his core.

Robert leans down to nose at the sensitive junction of his jaw and neck. “Such a good boy,” he breathes, hot against his ear, and Jonah comes with a shout.

Barnabas drags his tongue up to press against Jonah’s cock, hot and firm, as Jonah shakes apart around him. Giovanni thrusts wildly into him, hips slamming against Jonah’s hard enough to bruise, before he pulls out of Jonah abruptly. Jonah cries out at the loss, arching backward on instinct. A hand grasps his ass, thumb hooking into him to hold him open, and he feels the hot splash of come against his hole as Giovanni finishes.

He whimpers, face heating, as he feels it begin to drip down his thighs. Giovanni slides his thumb into Jonah with ease, pushing his come back inside briefly. He pulls away, wiping his finger off on Jonah with a satisfied little hum.

“Well done, sweetheart,” he says, and gives Jonah’s ass an appreciative pat.

Barnabas shifts, and Jonah’s hand falls from his chest as he moves out from between Jonah’s legs and straightens up. He looks at Jonah with wide, wild eyes, fingers clenching into the fabric of his pants. Hair mussed, cheeks red, lips and chin shining with Jonah’s slick—he looks a debauched mess. Jonah has never wanted to kiss him more than in this moment.

Jonah reaches out, tipping his body toward Barnabas to slide a shaky hand against his cheek. Before Jonah can bring their mouths together, though, Barnabas grabs him by the hips and pivots him, sprawling Jonah out across his legs and face-first into Jonathan’s lap.

“Hmm, not yet, I think,” Barnabas tells him, running a soft hand from hip to waist. “Something else to occupy your mouth first.”

Barnabas slides his hand up Jonah’s back to bury his hand into his curls and guide his head forward between Jonathan's legs. Barnabas holds his head in place as Jonah licks around Jonathan’s fingers where they spread him open. He pushes Jonah’s head down, and Jonah mouths at Jonathan’s entrance, lapping up the slick gathered there. Softening his tongue, Jonah licks a hot stripe up to Jonathan’s cock, wriggles it just above the hood in the way he knows Jonathan likes best to hear the hiss of air the man sucks in through his teeth. He feels Barnabas lean against his side and lets his eyes flutter closed as he hollows his cheeks and flicks his tongue. He imagines Barnabas’ eyes on him, gaze hot and avaricious as Jonah sucks Jonathan’s cock. There’s a muffled groan above him and he opens his eyes, flicking them up to see—

Barnabas, hand cupping Jonathan’s face, tilting him into a deep kiss. Jonah watches as they part for a bare moment, eyes on each other’s lips as they breathe in the same air, before Barnabas licks his way back into Jonathan’s mouth. Jonah pulls off Jonathan’s cock with a scowl and digs his fingers, sharp and irritable, into Jonathan’s thigh. Jonathan’s head jerks back, bottom lip dragging between Barnabas’ teeth as he pulls away. He shoots an indignant look down at Jonah, and Barnabas follows his gaze, face moving quickly from a confused frown to open delight as he sees what’s happened.

“Are—are you pouting?” Barnabas asks him, incredulously. He laughs long and loud, and Jonah bristles at the mockery. “Surely you can’t be jealous?”

Jonah tilts his chin up, eyes cold as he looks down his nose at Barnabas as best he can, sprawled out in the man’s lap as he is. “My guests should _not_ have to endure your wandering hands, as it’s hardly the experience they were expecting in exchange for their generous contributions,” he says peevishly. “I would appreciate it _immensely_ if you’d refrain from accosting them any further.”

“Unbelievable!” Barnabas says, hand tightening slightly in Jonah’s hair. “Need I remind you that _I_ am one such generous guest?”

“Barnabas, _please_ —”

“No, no, this is, this is _fantastic_ ,” Barnabas says, and Jonah doesn’t like the wild gleam in his eye. “This is—” He releases Jonah’s hair and reaches up to pull Jonathan back down for another kiss.

Jonah glares up at them until he’s jostled by a gentle knocking against his chin. He looks down to see Jonathan working himself over, fingers rubbing over his own cock as he moans into Barnabas’ mouth.

“ _Really!_ ”

Barnabas pulls back, lips shining and triumphant. He looks down at Jonah and shoots him a small, mocking frown.

“Need something else to keep you busy then?” he asks derisively. He turns and gestures toward the other side of the room. “Robert! I could use some assistance, please! It seems as if our _delightful_ host is not sufficiently occupied.”

Anger flashes hot in Jonah’s chest, and he could strangle Barnabas, he really could. He refrains, though it's a near thing, and seethes. He instead watches as Robert walks over, a look of mild bemusement on his face that morphs into surprise as Barnabas drags him down by the collar and slots his mouth against his. He fumbles his drink for a moment, but ultimately leans into it, bringing a hand up to grasp Barnabas’ jaw and angle his face to deepen the kiss. They pull apart slowly, a thin thread of spit connecting their reddened lips.

“Are you _quite_ finished?” Jonah asks testily. Barnabas tilts his head to look down at Jonah, shooting him a smug little grin.

“Me? No, not hardly,” he says, letting his hand fall from where it was fisted in Robert’s shirt. “But I shan’t keep Robert from doing so.”

Robert walks around to the front of the loveseat, placing his drink on the small end table before kneeling onto the cushion by Jonah’s legs. Jonah twists around to watch as Barnabas opens Robert’s trousers with nimble fingers, pulling his cock out and giving it a languid pull.

“Up on your knees,” he tells Jonah cheerfully, free hand sliding under his hip to help him up. The movement jostles Jonah forward into Jonathan’s lap, and his chin bumps against Jonathan’s cock. Jonathan slides wet fingers across Jonah’s cheek, and Jonah turns back to glower up at him.

He feels Robert settle behind him, hands grabbing at his hips to pull them higher, pushing his knees against Jonah’s to knock his legs wider.

“So pretty like this,” Barnabas says, running a hand along the deep curve of his spine. Jonah shivers at the touch, pushing up into his palm despite himself, and scowls.

“Going to watch me get fucked over your lap, then?” he asks in a fit of pique. “Indulge too much in drink to have a go at me yourself?”

Barnabas laughs, long and easy. Jonah feels a third hand reach between his legs, fingers holding him open to the press of the cock against his entrance.

“I’m certain you know that isn’t the case,” he says, pressing down on the middle of Jonah’s back until his chest brushes against the hard line of his cock. “But unlike you, I’m motivated beyond instant gratification.”

“Motivated by your depraved cuckoldry, more like,” Jonah hisses. The thick cock breaches him, and he lowers his head to pant against Jonathan’s legs at the stretch.

“Me, a cuckold? Why, Jonah,” Barnabas says, “Does that make me your husband then?”

Jonah’s face heats as Jonathan chuckles above him.

“Barnabas—”

“Hush,” Barnabas croons, low and saccharine. He slides his hand back into Jonah’s hair, tenderly cupping the back of his head. “Let a poor cuckold watch his precious husband get fucked, there’s a dear.”

Jonah opens his mouth to respond when Barnabas shifts his grip in his hair and pushes his face back down into Jonathan's lap.

“Lucky man, Barnabas,” Robert says as he bottoms out inside Jonah. He squeezes tight around Jonah’s hips as he pulls back and holds there for a moment, only the head of his cock still inside, before he snaps his hips forward again. “Lucky to have such a sweet little toy for a husband.”

“Thank you, Robert,” Barnabas says brightly as he pushes Jonah’s head further into Jonathan’s lap. “And lucky for you that I’m willing to share him.”

Jonah tries his best to ignore them, tries to focus on the drag of the one cock inside him and the hard press of the other against his tongue, but none of them will _shut up_.

“He has a pretty mouth, too, as I’m sure Jonathan can attest,” Barnabas says, holding Jonah’s head so that his nose is pressed flat against Jonathan’s groin, making it hard to breathe. Jonathan groans as Jonah’s noise of protest vibrates against him.

“Quite,” Jonathan bites out, lifting his hips slightly to grind against Jonah’s mouth. “Though I could say the same for you as well.”

“Is that so?” Barnabas laughs. “Well, you’ll find flattery _does_ in fact get you everywhere with me.”

Jonathan’s stomach presses against the crown of Jonah’s head as he bends forward at the waist, and Jonah can hear the slick press of their mouths above him, can feel the low rumble of Barnabas’ moan where he presses against his side. Something hot and ugly curls in his belly, some feeling on the razor’s edge of jealousy and possessiveness, at all the eyes and thoughts not on _him_. He digs his fingers again into the meat of Jonathan’s thigh and runs his teeth lightly over Jonathan’s cock in warning.

“Doesn’t much like that, does he?” Jonathan asks, humor in his voice.

“I’m afraid you’ll find he’s quite the glutton for attention,” Barnabas says, using his grip in Jonah’s hair to pull his mouth back up along Jonathan’s cock.

“One cock in his mouth, another in his cunt, and still he wants more?” Robert asks “No wonder you have to whore him out to other men, the greedy thing.”

“Now, Robert, that’s not fair. I’m simply _lending_ him to you, out of the kindness of my own heart.”

“And I’m sure your cock had no say in this?” Jonathan snickers.

“Well, I must admit you have me there,” Barnabas says, sounding very nearly sheepish but for the sharpness underneath. “But can you blame me when he looks so fetching split open like this?”

Jonah glances up to see Barnabas bent up towards Jonathan, lips parted and wet, eyes half-lidded and heated. Jonah realizes with a jolt that Barnabas is using him to fuck Jonathan—that Barnabas is fucking Jonathan _through_ him. He squeezes his eyes closed around the heady swirl of anger and arousal that builds inside him, instead focusing on the slap of Robert’s hips against his, tilting his hips back to take him deeper.

“If I had known before how much you liked this,” Robert says, thrusting into him with more force. “I would have let the whole office have a go.”

Jonah swallows, trying to keep the saliva pooling in his mouth from drooling out onto Jonathan’s lap.

“Filling your arse, your cunt, your mouth—maybe then you’d finally be satisfied,” Robert says, grinding himself deep. “Perhaps next time. Do you think your _husband_ would like that?”

Barnabas moans below him, rubbing his clothed cock against the curve of Jonah’s chest. Robert picks up the pace, fingers digging hard into his hips as he pulls Jonah onto his cock.

“I’d have you every way, in every hole,” Robert pants, leaning down over Jonah to nip at his exposed shoulder. “And then I’d send you home, back to your husband, dripping with my spend.” His hips begin to stutter, and Jonah hears Barnabas egg Robert on with a litany of murmured _come on_ s as Robert holds Jonah down and comes, teeth pressing into his skin.

Robert pants hotly against Jonah’s back for a moment, cock softening inside him as he catches his breath. He pulls out, and Jonah whines as he rubs two fingers briefly over his cock before curling them inside his aching cunt. He pulls them out with a slick sound, and Jonah feels him twist behind him.

“Here,” Robert says, and Jonah hears Barnabas’s muffled moan in response. Jonah can’t see, but he imagines vividly the sight of Barnabas, two of Robert’s fingers shoved in his mouth, sucking them clean of Robert and Jonah’s come. He shivers and clenches down on nothing, dreadfully empty. Jonah jumps at the feeling of a hand running along the curve of his spine from his neck to his lower back.

“Such a good little husband,” Barnabas tells him breathlessly. “So good for me.”

Barnabas tightens his fist in Jonah’s hair and the pulling sting brings tears to Jonah’s eyes faster than he can blink them away. As tears begin to roll down his cheeks, Jonathan’s breath turns ragged, moans high and thready, hips stuttering against Jonah’s face. Barnabas uses his grip in Jonah's hair to tilt his head up, forcing him to watch, too proud to close his eyes, as Barnabas captures Jonathan’s mouth in another kiss. He watches as Barnabas slips his tongue into Jonathan’s mouth, as Barnabas sucks on his bottom lip, and wonders at how strange and exhilarating it is to watch someone else be kissed as he’s been kissed so many times before. Barnabas steals every moan out of Jonathan’s mouth as Jonathan comes, cock twitching against Jonah’s tongue.

Barnabas breaks away from Jonathan, leaning in one last time to give his lips a playful nip, before he turns to look back down at Jonah. He takes in the slick shining against Jonah’s lips and chin, and Jonah can feel the twitch of his cock from where it’s pressed up against his chest. Barnabas huffs out a shaky breath and reaches down to swipe his thumb through the mess on Jonah’s mouth.

“Lovely,” Barnabas says, smearing Jonathan’s slick against Jonah’s lips, brushing his thumb gently across Jonah’s tongue. “Lovely and _mine_.” He brings his thumb up to his mouth and licks it clean.

Jonah falls against Barnabas’ chest, arms too shaky to hold his own weight. Barnabas wraps his arms around him, nudging his head up when Jonathan reaches down to tilt a glass of water against his lips.

“You did so well,” Barnabas murmurs into his hair. Jonathan presses a cool hand against Jonah’s heated cheek, and he leans into the touch like a contented house cat.

“Tamed that one well, Barny,” Giovanni says, clapping him on the back as he walks past.

“Not at all,” Barnabas says, rueful and private. Something in Jonah’s chest—something old and buried deep, something hard and small and choked under years of denial and self-preservation—twinges painfully.

Barnabas clears his throat and reaches for his drink, finishing it off in one swallow. He closes his eyes for a long moment and Jonah stares at the furrow between his brows, thinks about the distance between the two of them. When Barnabas opens them again, however, they’re mischievous once more, and Jonah wonders at his sanguine temperament.

“Up for a little more fun?” Barnabas asks, shooting him a sly grin. Before Jonah can answer him, Barnabas shifts one arm under Jonah’s thighs and stands in one smooth motion. Jonah instinctively throws his arms around Barnabas’ neck, clinging to him, but Barnabas carries him easily over to the table near the center of the room. He lays Jonah back against it, spending a beat leaned close over him, their breaths mingling, before pulling back. He looks down at Jonah, eyes roaming over his body, and Jonah preens, tilting his chin to show off the pale line of his neck, arching his back

“I propose a deal,” Barnabas says lowly, with heat. “If you can be a _good_ boy and stay quiet…” He rucks the shirt up around Jonah’s neck and leans down over him. “I’ll make it worth your while.

“And because I’m in a giving mood,” he says, pausing to give Jonah an indulgent smile, “I’m going to provide you with some assistance.” With that, he pulls the shirt up over Jonah’s chin and stuffs the wadded fabric into his mouth. He hears when Barnabas’ knees hit the floor, and though he expects it, Jonah still jumps when Barnabas slides his palms down his thighs, spreading him open.

Jonah feels a finger swipe through the slick mess of his folds, swirling around his entrance and then down to press against his ass. As it breaches him, he keens and bucks his hips forward, forcing Barnabas’ finger to slide in to the second knuckle.

“Bad already!” Barnabas laughs. “I’ll give you one more chance, and perhaps…Jonathan?” Jonathan walks over and cocks an eyebrow down at Barnabas. “Keep him still for me?”

Jonathan smiles and shifts to Jonah’s side, reaching out to grab Jonah’s wrists in one of his own. His fine, long fingers encircle Jonah’s wrists completely, and Jonah feels trapped, pinioned as Jonathan moves his arms above his head and down over the side of the table. He can feel the stretch in the muscles of his shoulders, and the angle forces him to arch his back, putting his chest on display.

“A fine specimen,” Jonathan says, running one finger down along his sternum. “Open and on display for us.”

“Remember: one more sound and you’ll regret it,” Barnabas says, matter-of-fact, before burying his face in Jonah’s cunt. Jonah has to bite down hard onto the shirt in his mouth to keep from wailing at Barnabas’ merciless assault. He twists his hips, unsure whether he’s trying to get closer or pull farther away, when Barnabas snakes a hand up through his legs to pin his hips down with a broad palm over Jonah’s belly. Jonah thrashes his head as Barnabas sucks his cock, wet, hot pressure increasing in a dizzying spiral, as he slides a second finger into Jonah’s ass.

“I must admit, Jonah, seeing you so vulnerable…” Jonathan trails off. He steps in closer and runs his finger down Jonah’s chest to circle around a nipple. “It _fascinates_ me.”

Jonah pushes his wrists against the hand binding them, testing their grip, but Jonathan holds fast. Jonah pants, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he hurtles towards climax, undone so pathetically quickly by Barnabas’ mouth. He twitches his hips as much as he can, desperately chasing his release, when Barnabas releases Jonah’s cock. Jonah gasps in a shuddering breath, the slight noise muffled by the shirt.

“So wet for me,” Barnabas says, hot breath ghosting against Jonah’s folds. “So _sloppy_.” He dives back in, lapping fervently at Jonah’s entrance, and Jonah’s face flames at the humiliating wet sucking sounds he makes.

“How does it feel, to be fucked open by so many men?” Jonathan asks him. “Does it hurt?” His hands tighten around Jonah’s wrists and he flicks at his nipple, causing Jonah to wince in pain.

Barnabas drags his tongue back upwards to flick lightly at Jonah’s cock, the touch ticklish and not enough all at once.

“I wonder how much you could handle…” Jonathan says, wrenching Jonah’s wrists lower and levering his chest higher. “How much it would take to break you.”

Just as Barnabas sinks a third finger into him, Jonathan grasps Jonah’s piercing and twists. Jonah yelps and the room falls silent around him.

Barnabas stills his tongue and fingers and pulls his mouth away from Jonah. He raises his head to look at Jonah across the length of his stretched body, mouth slick and eyes sharp. Jonah’s stomach clenches in some emotion he can’t name—not quite fear and not quite anticipation. What was Barnabas going to do? He draws in a shaky breath through his nose as Barnabas watches him for a moment, no expression on his face.

Jonah shudders out an exhale when Barnabas lowers his head again, biting down on the shirt wadded in his mouth when Barnabas returns to sucking his cock. Barnabas watches him as he works, gaze not leaving Jonah for a second, and though his eyes flutter in pleasure, Jonah forces them to stay open, to see. His neck quickly begins to ache and his shoulders scream as Jonathan stretches them further, but still he watches as Barnabas takes him apart with his mouth. He’s close. He’s so, so close, undone so thoroughly by Barnabas’ tongue, and he strains upward into his mouth, hips grinding against Barnabas’ face in small circles, and—

Barnabas pulls away.

Jonah shouts, pulling against Jonathan’s grip, trying and failing to break free and reach for Barnabas.

Barnabas looks him in the eye, licking the shine of Jonah’s slick off of his lips. “I did tell you not to make another sound.”

He lowers his head again, and licks just under Jonah’s cock, so close and yet still so far, and Jonah sobs, not bothering to hold the sound back. Jonathan reaches up to stuff the shirt further into Jonah’s mouth, nearly choking him on the damp, silk fabric.

“No sounds,” Jonathan tells him. “Can’t you follow one simple direction?”

Jonah thrashes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as Barnabas swipes his tongue back up to Jonah’s cock. He does it again, and again, and Jonah shakes, stumbling and tripping towards his orgasm, cock twitching and—

Barnabas pulls his tongue away.

Jonah thrashes and tears prickle in his eyes as he’s denied release yet again. Barnabas slides his tongue down through the mess at his entrance, following a slick trail further down to Jonah’s ass. Jonah groans at the hot swipe of Barnabas’ tongue against him, lifts his hips to allow for better access. Barnabas wriggles his tongue in alongside his fingers as Jonah pants, dizzy, drawing in too little oxygen through the material of the shirt. He slides his hand downward, angling it to press his thumb firmly against Jonah’s cock, and the pressure is nearly too much to bear. Hot tears spill from his eyes, rolling down his cheek, as he sobs uselessly into his gag.

Jonah hears Jonathan’s breath go ragged above him and feels a thumb swipe under his wet eyes. “To think,” he starts, voice hushed in awe. “All this time, and I had no idea how sweet your pain could be.” He brings his thumb, wet with Jonah’s tears, to his mouth and licks it clean.

Barnabas begins to twitch his thumb against him, and Jonah rolls his hips into it once before Jonathan yanks him by the wrists, pulling him down flat against the table. Jonah cries out, the stabbing pain that lances through his shoulders amplifying his pleasure, twisting it into something more, something better.

“Your talk of power and fear, as if you could harness those things—was it all a mask?” Jonathan asks him. He leans down to kiss away the fresh tears that fall, scrapes his teeth against the sharp of Jonah’s cheekbone. “To hide your own fear and powerlessness? To hide how much you love feeling this way?”

Jonah turns his face towards Jonathan, bumps their noses together. Barnabas slides his thumb down to dip briefly into Jonah’s cunt, spreading the slick as he brings it back up to draw tight, hard circles around Jonah’s cock. Jonah gasps, on the verge of hyperventilating from the sensation, the overstimulation, the rush of blood pounding in his ears.

“Are you scared now?”

Jonah keens, back snapping into a taut bow as he comes, clamping his thighs around Barnabas’ head as he shakes apart. Jonah loses all sense of time and surrounding for a moment, his body heavy as he floats on the ebbing tide of his pleasure.

He feels gentle fingers remove the shirt from his mouth, wiping the spit from the corners, and a cool palm stroke down his cheek.

“You’re all right,” Jonathan whispers, hands now rubbing down his arms, chasing away the pins and needles. “You’re all right.”

Jonah lets himself be propped up as Barnabas brings him water to sip on. “You’re doing so well,” Barnabas tells him, reaching across to brush away the drop of water that clings to his lip. “Do you still want more?”

Jonah clears his throat and nods his head jerkily. He looks away from Barnabas to watch as Mordechai approaches.

“I seem to remember Mr. Lukas telling you he’d pay you a visit when you were better behaved.”

Mordechai grunts, looks impassive. “I said he could come to me.”

“And yet, here you are,” Barnabas says, tilting his head with a wry grin.

Mordechai blinks at him for a moment, and then turns his gaze to Jonah. Jonah watches as he begins to open his trousers, thick fingers popping open the buttons one by one. He remembers how big Mordechai is, remembers how, despite this, he’s never quite prepared for the exquisite stretch, the agonizing girth of him.

Arms wrap around Jonah’s waist and slide him back a few inches before pressing him down by the shoulders to lay flat, head dangling over the side of the table. Barnabas leans down and tilts his head towards Jonah, but he keeps his eyes on Mordechai.

“I have wanted to see this so _very_ badly,” Barnabas tells him. “To see you so utterly stuffed full with his cock.”

The table creaks underneath him, and Jonah pictures Mordechai kneeling one leg onto it, thick cock in hand as he rakes his gaze over Jonah, hot as coals. Large hands grip his legs, each almost encircling the width of his thighs, and pushes them up and to the side, holding Jonah wide open. Jonah hears Barnabas’s breath hitch next to his ear.

“Are you ready?” He asks, voice breathy. “I very much hope you are.”

Jonah gasps as he feels Mordechai’s cock press against his own, thick and hot and even larger than he remembered. His stomach clenches in anxiety as he imagines it inside him, thinks wildly that he needs more time to prepare.

“W-wait,” Jonah stutters out, reaching a hand up towards Barnabas. “J-just—!” His pleads are cut off with a loud, gasping wail as Mordechai slides his cock down and shoves himself roughly inside.

“ _God_ ,” Jonah groans as Mordechai presses forward, keeps pushing and pushing until his thighs are flush against Jonah’s, until Jonah can feel the press of his cock _everywhere_ inside him. He jumps as Barnabas skates his hand down his chest, coming to rest low on Jonah’s abdomen.

“Jonah,” Barnabas says, half moan, half reverent oath. He presses down more firmly, right over Mordechai’s cock as he shifts back. “I can _feel_ him inside you.”

Jonah wants to say something, _anything_ —to tell Barnabas to shut up or to piss off—but Mordechai steals his breath and words away with a harsh snap of his hips. Jonah gets jostled up the table, the tops of shoulders sliding over the side from the force of the thrust.

“I wish you could see yourself,” Barnabas says, and his hand trembles where it’s pressed against Jonah’s body. “It’s not just feeling—you can _see it_.”

Jonah can hear rustling as Barnabas unfastens his trousers, can feel the head of his cock brush against his waist as he jerks himself. Barnabas moves back over near Jonah’s head, and Jonathan reaches down to Jonah’s chin, pulling his mouth further open for Barnabas to slide inside.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Barnabas hisses, gripping the edge of the table as he sinks his cock into Jonah’s mouth. He holds himself there, still and tense, as he breathes loudly through his nose. Jonah shivers as Barnabas moves his hand back down to press against the swell of Mordechai inside him. With Barnabas pressed so deeply into his throat, Jonah struggles to breathe, each of Mordechai’s thrusts knocking the breath from his lungs, the thickness of Barnabas’ cock blocking his air. Jonah’s vision had started to slowly gray out when Barnabas pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside his mouth, allowing Jonah to breathe raggedly around him.

“—obstructing the airflow instead of the blood flow can have a slightly different effect,” Jonathan explains, the tail end of some conversation that Jonah only just manages to hear.

“Interesting,” Barnabas says, voice sincere. Jonah wonders muzzily what exactly is in store in his future.

“Much riskier though,” Jonathan adds, “couldn’t hurt to have a physician present.”

“Is that so?” Barnabas laughs shakily as he pushes his cock back into Jonah’s throat. “And what would the good doctor do?”

“Observe,” Jonathan says. He lays one hand over Jonah’s throat, pressing his palm flat. “Examine.”

“And the results?” Barnabas asks, voice breathless as he fucks Jonah’s mouth

“See for yourself.”

Jonathan slides his hand down to the hollow of Jonah’s throat and puts Barnabas’ in its place. He squeezes over Barnabas’s hand just slightly, the pressure making Barnabas feel even bigger in Jonah’s throat. “You can feel the cock inside him here, too.”

“Y-yes,” Barnabas pants, other hand squeezing around the base of his cock. Jonathan withdraws.

“Not too tight,” he tells Barnabas. He leans forward to take Jonah’s arms and pull them back again, wrapping them around Barnabas to clasp behind his back. “At least not for too long.”

Jonathan moves to Jonah’s side, bending over him to lick a hot stripe from Jonah’s navel to his sternum. Mordechai picks up speed, plowing into Jonah, and the movement bounces Jonah’s chest against Jonathan’s mouth as he pulls away. Drool begins to overflow in Jonah’s mouth, leaking out from around Barnabas’ cock and trickling upward into his hair. Barnabas grinds deep into his mouth once more before pulling out and removing his hand.

Mordechai lets go of Jonah’s thighs to grip him around the waist, pulling Jonah down onto his cock. Jonah reaches up to scrabble at his arms, grabbing onto the collar of Mordechai’s shirt as he pulls himself closer. Mordechai squeezes his hands around his waist, and Jonah knows without having to see that they must very nearly meet around him. Mordechai bounces Jonah in his lap, using his body as he would his own fist, entirely for his own pleasure, fucking into him with brutal strength.

Jonah moans and wraps his legs around Mordechai, digging his heels into the small of his back to pull him in deeper. Mordechai grunts and tightens his hands hard enough to bruise, close enough to squeeze the air from his lungs. He leans down, beard scraping against the side of Jonah’s neck, and bites into the meat of Jonah’s shoulder hard enough to break the skin. Jonah’s head falls back as he cries out against the pain, clenching uncontrollably around him.

Mordechai pulls back from his neck, gritted teeth tinged red with Jonah’s blood, and pushes Jonah back against the table. Jonah sprawls against it, dazed, as Mordechai pulls out of him and strokes his cock as he stares down at him. He finishes with a groan, painting Jonah’s stomach and chest with streaks of come, pressing his cock down against Jonah’s as the last dribbles out. He breathes heavily for a moment, eyes slightly unfocused, before he tucks himself away and steps back from the table.

Jonathan sighs, sounding very put-upon as he presses a finger just at the edge of the wound. “I’ll go fetch my bag then, shall I?”

As he walks off, Barnabas steps closer, sliding one hand around to cup the back of Jonah’s head and the other through the mess on his belly.

“Look at you,” Barnabas says. He brings his fingers up to Jonah’s pliant mouth, easing them inside. The taste of Mordechai is strong and bitter across Jonah’s tongue, and he laps it off of Barnabas’ fingers lazily. And then finally—finally Barnabas leans down and kisses Jonah.

Barnabas tilts Jonah’s head, deepening the kiss as he slides his tongue across Jonah’s, chasing the taste of Mordechai into the back of his mouth. He snakes a hand under Jonah and slides it down to the small of his back, pulling him closer. He presses against him, heedless of the state of his shirt, and shifts his hips to slide inside Jonah. It’s smooth and easy and fills him up so completely, and Jonah mewls at the sparks of pleasure that light up his spine. Suddenly desperate for closeness, he clings to Barnabas, clutching at his neck and hair, wrapping his legs around him tight. Barnabas presses soft kisses to his jaw as he lifts him into his arms and walks them over to the loveseat.

Once settled back into the cushions, Jonah starts to move, letting his head fall back as he rolls his hips languidly in Barnabas’ lap. Barnabas groans, panting hot against his chin for a moment, before he slides his lips down the column of his throat and grabs at Jonah’s waist, stilling him.

“One last show?” Barnabas asks into the crook of his neck. “For me?”

Jonah nods shakily, leaning into the touch and whimpering at the gentle nip Barnabas gives to the tender skin just below his ear. Barnabas slides big, warm hands over the curve of Jonah’s ass and lifts him with ease. Jonah whines at the loss and tugs at Barnabas’ hair in his displeasure.

Barnabas laughs softly. “One moment,” he says, “let’s get you turned around.”

With the help of Barnabas’ steadying hands at his hips, Jonah slides shakily off of his lap and turns to face the rest of the room. He shivers at the feeling of eyes on him, vulnerable and exposed. He looks over to Mordechai, settled onto a nearby chair, and though he has a bored expression on his face, his eyes are watchful as a hawk’s.

“Cheers, sweetheart.” Giovanni leers over from a table across the room, and raises his glass with a smirk. Robert joins him, chuckling and clinking their glasses together.

Barnabas spreads his hands wide over Jonah’s ass, slipping his thumb into the cleft to run lightly over his hole. “Here?” Barnabas asks, and the way his voice slightly shakes causes something in Jonah’s chest to clench, sending him gasping.

“Please,” he says, voice raspy and low. “ _Please_.”

“Anything for you, angel.”

Jonah shudders at the name, the oldest and most favored of the ones Barnabas calls him. Barnabas curls his palms over the sides of Jonah’s hips, using his thumbs to spread him open gently as he sits Jonah down onto his cock. The slow, gentle stretch around Barnabas inside him sets his legs to wobbling, and he gasps as Barnabas slides his hands down to his thighs and lifts them, seating Jonah fully onto his lap.

“There you are,” Barnabas murmurs, and presses an open-mouthed kiss to Jonah’s bare shoulder. “Here where you belong. With me.”

Jonah leans back against Barnabas’ chest, strong and broad against his back, and cranes his neck, tilting over his shoulder, seeking out Barnabas’ mouth. Barnabas leans forward, just shy of Jonah’s parted lips, and thrusts up into him, slow and perfect.

Jonah moans into the space between their mouths, and it hangs there briefly in the co-mingling of their breaths before Barnabas lurches forward and captures Jonah’s lips in a kiss. Letting go of one of Jonah’s thighs, Barnabas reaches up to cup Jonah’s jaw, angling his head further back to deepen the kiss. The metal barbell in Barnabas’ tongue clinks lightly against Jonah’s teeth as Barnabas licks into his mouth, sending pleasant chills up Jonah’s spine.

“Well that’s a lovely sight,” Jonathan says from above him. Jonah breaks away from the kiss and looks up to see Jonathan’s eyes fixated on his shoulder, hot and throbbing where Mordechai sunk his teeth in.

“Forgive me, Doctor,” Barnabas says, breathless as he fucks into Jonah. “As soon as I’m finished with him, I’ll deliver him into your very capable hands.”

“See that you do,” Jonathan says, fondly, and takes the seat closest to them.

Barnabas trails his hand over Jonah’s chest, briefly tweaking at his nipple before continuing to slide his broad palm down over the soft curve of his belly to his cock.

“Once more?” Barnabas asks, stroking his thumb over Jonah’s cock. “Once more so I can feel you shake apart around me?”

“A-anything for you,” Jonah says, parroting Barnabas’ words back to him. Barnabas groans underneath him, grinding deep inside him as he slides two fingers into Jonah’s cunt.

“So good for me,” Barnabas says as he mouths over Jonah’s jaw. “Perfect and _mine_.”

Barnabas sinks his fingers in to the third knuckle, curling them forward with insistent pressure, and Jonah wails through a toe-curling shudder.

“I can feel you clenching around me,” Barnabas moans. He snaps his hips up into Jonah, rubs faster and faster circles around his cock. “Are you close?”

“Yes,” Jonah pants, “ _Yes_.”

“Are you going to finish on my cock?”

“Barnabas, _please_.”

“How could I ever deny you anything?”

Barnabas slips a third finger into Jonah and plants his feet firmly onto the ground to fuck into him, hard and deep. Tension curls low in Jonah’s belly, twisting up and out to his limbs to pull inward, gathering tight and hot in Jonah’s core, winding and winding Jonah up into a single radiant point of pleasure, so close, so very, very _close_ , and—

“Come for me, angel.”

Jonah falls apart around him, eyes clenched so tightly shut he sees star bursts behind his lids. He floats in the feeling, close and warm and fuzzy at the edges, only vaguely aware of his surroundings as Barnabas grinds deep into him and finishes with a shivery moan. Jonah lolls his head back against Barnabas’ chest to feel the hot puffs of his breath against his cheek.

“Hmm,” Barnabas hums into his hair, and the rumble spreads through Jonah’s chest from where they’re pressed together. “So lovely.”

Barnabas shifts Jonah in his lap, pulling his legs up onto the seat beside them, cradling Jonah in his arms. Jonah glances up through half-lidded eyes to see Barnabas looking down at him, face tender and soft. He slips a hand into Barnabas’ shirt, presses his palm flat to feel the thudding of his heart. Barnabas slides his hand over Jonah’s, engulfing it completely in his own, and gives it a light squeeze.

Jonah sighs contentedly, practically purring as Jonathan sets his legs over his lap and rubs light circles onto his calves. Barnabas watches him for a moment, eyes scanning intently over Jonah’s face, before he breaks into a smile.

“So…” Barnabas shoots him a wry look. “The Magnus Institute?”

“Yes,” Jonah says, stretching in Barnabas’ arms like a contented cat. “I do quite like the sound of that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art! Done by chuckee cheese, jonahfucker extraordinaire.

**Author's Note:**

> **IMPORTANT NOTE ABOUT THE BRIEF DUBIOUS CONSENT TAG**  
> There is a brief part in the fic where Jonah has already orgasmed and is overstimulated. The person continues to go down on him past this and Jonah says "I can't", but the person continues. This was written with the mindset that Jonah is fully consenting, just overstimulated/overwhelmed at this moment, but the person does not check in with him about it when they should have.


End file.
